Potius Mori Quam Foedare
by Eric Blair
Summary: she used to believe her honor was the greatest thing in the world, until she realizied it wasn't worth dying for. A onehour oneshot accompanying piece to Vulnerat Omnes, Ultima Necat.


Potius Mori Quam Foedare 

_Honor used to be something so deep, so sacred; a blanket against fear, pushing me beyond my set limit, forcing me to go beyond, to run, to escape, to show them all what I could really do._

_Where is my honor now?_

----- -----

It was my cloak.

A cloak against infamy. A way in which I could protect my own perceived greatness, and sweep under it all of my doubts, fears; the small little things that became bigger and more real during the long sleepless nights.

They were the things I didn't want anyone to see, things I feared to face; things I would like to hide under a rug full to the brim of filth and self-loathing _and it couldn't take any more but I just kept pushing and putting and filling and-_

And suddenly I can feel it start to slip away, and there is nothing I can do, because my arms are just tired and my body is working against me and the only thing I can do is watch as my cape, my warm red cloak starts to be eaten away by himself, and I realize that I'm naked underneath and I feel so ashamed and there is no way I can cover myself because my arms won't move and my body is numb and I want to stop feeling so ashamed of my nakedness because then they will see, _they will all see my true wretched self_, the bone and marrow rotting within me by the acid, corrosive feelings of inferiority that accompany me every where I go; that which gives me the drive to overachieve and overcompensate.

Because father left me after mother's death, because his tears for _her_ were false and an insult to _her_ memory. Because from that day on, I promised myself that I would never cry again, not caring about emotions, or scars, leaving me twisted and bent and vulnerable at the bitter end of it all.

And now I see the light, like a new born child thrown against it's will into a world full of despair and hate and _Whydidyouleaveme? Wasn'tIgoodenough? Whywon'tyouseeme? Don'tyouwantmetobewithyou?_ And I just want to run, to hide form the blinding, scorching light that seems to permeate into my very soul, like a stubborn candle moving in to close and I feel it's warmth and suddenly it's and itch I can't scratch and now it's scorching hot, and suddenly without my knowledge I see myself ablaze and _OHDEARGOD! IDON'TWANTTOSEE! PLEASEDON'TMAKEMESEE! DON'TMAKEMEREMEBER! DON'TCOMEINSIDEME! LEAVE MEALONE! GETOUTOFMYBRAIN!_

And I'm suddenly thinking how amazing it is; how the nearness of it can open up my feelings, make everything shine with a new light. The lights are brighter, the sounds sharper, I can feel my blood as it pumps thru my whole body, my brain...

Come to think of it, it feels a lot like a rush, like something primal and ecstatic and so overbearing and _mybodycan'ttakesomuchbliss, mybodycan'ttakesomuchpain, mymindyearnstobefreeoftheselfimposedbondagebutI'mscaredofthetruefreedomIyearsomuch-_

And so, I wake up cold and damp and feel like my life is slowly dripping away, like sand on a closed fist I can feel it flowing out, and no matter how hard I clench my fist it will run out and leave me a dry empty husk, a shell of my former shelf, but in the meantime I want to _feel_, just to make myself believe that _I am_ _capable of feeling something else besides that self-loathing and false pride and twisted honor_ _and_-

The rush is gone and I go back to pain to normal everyday life, to wake up, do stuff, find a reason to keep on living, to go places, to move forward, take a bath and fall to sleep and realize that _I am nothing_ because_ I have lost the will to live_ and _My doll won't play with me anymore_ and I feel just used and spent and tired and I want to walk away and see the blue water and slip into it to feel the warmth of the sun on my (_parched dry_) skin, and my (_sunken_) eyes look up and my (_shallow_) cheeks try to smile and-

But every once in a while something tugs at me; something that feels small and unimportant, but that is there none the less; like a rip in a shirt, or a neck bone itching to be cracked. And just like that it starts to get bigger and bigger, and then it swallows me whole.

And I feel like I've been used, and I've been soiled and _whywon'tyoucometowakeup? whydoyouleavemeallalone? whereareyouwhenIneedyouthemost?_

And now I realize, _I know_, that it's better to live without honor, than to die for false pride.

I don't want to die 

_I DON'T WANT TO DIE_

_IDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEiDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIE IDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIEIDON'TWANTTODIE-_

Please, help me…I don't want to die…

I don't want to leave you...

_I _don't want _you _to leave _me_…

Please…


End file.
